


The Ultimate Sacrifice for Love

by AlixxBlack



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Lots of Whump, M/M, Other, Sad, Simon Whump, TW: Mentions of Drug Use, TW: addiction, baz whump, break-up, collection of drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23866585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlixxBlack/pseuds/AlixxBlack
Summary: A series of drabbles that I wrote exploring a canon-divergent world where Wayword Sons doesn't exist and the life that Simon and Baz share is not even semi-charmed...
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. What do I do now?

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Addiction  
> TW: Mentions of Drug Use
> 
> If these are triggering topics, please do not read this story. Thank you. You matter to me and I want your mental health to remain stable.

“What do I do now?” he asked with a quiver on his tongue. I could see his pallid features even in the harsh darkness of the night, walking down an abandoned alley. I could even taste the fear coating the soft skin along the inside of his cheeks. I often wondered the same thing about him. I’d always known what I was going to do, one way or another, and I’d always had a plan for myself. But what did he have?

A lie, a loss, and a confused heart.

“I don’t know,” I whispered into the fog laden air. I wondered if he could taste the worry of my words too.


	2. Defeat

With a limpness I can’t describe, he fell onto our futon couch. I almost dared to think that he felt defeated but I knew that feeling had long passed. This was more of a sorrowful expectation. His muscles didn’t respond to the mind anymore. Surely he was on the verge of tears even if I didn’t have any view of his face. The sound of his depression is loudest when he’s silent.

There was always a magic about him, too, that made the world shift in a heavy way that dragged my bones to the ground whenever he was hurt. Before I asked him how the interview went at the latest round of shops to turn him down, I had to sit in the nearest chair. I couldn’t even feign surprise when he told me that he’d decided to give up.


	3. Gone

Something was wrong the instant I woke up to an empty flat. It wasn’t just empty of  _ him _ but everything that  _ was _ him. His clothes were gone, his pictures and electronics; the smell of his damp towel from his morning showers being whipped around by the brisk breeze that haunts five o’clock. When I traversed the scratchy carpet of my narrow hallway to the living room, his armchair was gone as were his shoots and jumper.

I wanted my heart to race with panic, rage, or disapproval. Unfortunately, it merely fluttered in momentary surprise. For all the love I had for him, it was only a matter of time before he ran away from me too. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stand to chase him.

Not  _ again _ .

  
Not  _ anymore _ .


	4. Alone

Nobody tried to keep in contact with me when he left. In fact, he was the only reason that I had any personal friends in the first place. That should’ve been obvious to me before the apologetic calls buzzed my phone into oblivion and long before the check-in texts stopped vibrating my leg into anxiety. I never knew how to miss people I didn’t like until they weren’t there anymore.

Of course, I thrived at work as a result. I had a regular business job as the CFO of an accounting firm that allowed me to work from home more often than not. I also guest teach at Watford from time-to-time. I always had somewhere to go, something to do, and someone to meet. The only thing that changed about my life is that when I went home at night the flat was dark and the bed was empty.

Sometimes it already felt that way before, too.


	5. I Need You

My voice had cracked having been awoken by the screaming shrill of my phone ringing non-stop like an alarm that I couldn’t snooze. When I answered, I hadn’t checked the caller name, not that it would’ve helped. I squeezed my eyes shut and questioned the bothersome caller, “Baz Pitch, what the hell do you want?”

“I don’t know where I am, Baz,” the voice of a ghost hummed into the speaker. I swore that I was hearing things. It had been five years since he’d left me in the night like a coward. My pain had long ago evolved into bitterness and discontent.

In a growl, I chided him. “This isn’t funny.”

  
“I need you. I need  _ help, _ ” he stressed the word he knew would grab my around my shredded heart. Even though I had thought I was over him, I was thirsty for his company in a way I’d never known until he called me in need.


	6. Wrong

He was sitting in the bathtub shaking. No, he wasn’t shaking. He wasn’t trembling. The way his body shook constantly was like the earth quaking but only for him. Every breath looked like it was going to be his last. Every blink looked like he had died. I couldn’t believe that Simon Snow, the once Chosen One, had become little more than a homeless addict in the years he was missing.

In my head, I had thought he was better off without me. Or at least  _ he _ had believed he was better off, anyway. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t spent the great part of my childhood resenting him for being everything I wanted and craved and whimpered for in my dreams, so it wasn’t hard to believe he’d found a new Angela Wellbelove to fill the empty pit in his stomach that I could never fill in our years together.

It hurt to know how wrong I was all that time.


	7. Fading

Nobody asked questions when I stopped appearing for meetings in person. They didn’t wonder why I attended fewer public events. It was never something that drew the attention of the people I worked with when I was less present than before Simon was in my life again. My absence gave way to others to succeed.

And it gave Simon someone to help him overcome every traumatic memory he’d buried so deep that he forgot what words he used to describe them. His body was pumping dead blood through his veins between drug benders and abandoned rehab stints. I paid for thousands of pounds of therapy. I attended every support group by his side and forked out every last pence for his medications to cope with the withdrawal.

The reign of Baz Grimm-Pitch quickly passed as Simon’s need for support grew exponentially with each relapse.


	8. Rinse & Repeat

He left as quickly as he came, it had felt, but I wasn’t very surprised. We had agreed he needed to check himself into a mental health institution for around the clock rehabilitation services. His needs had grown far beyond what I could handle. I couldn’t leave the house without him sneaking a dealer through the window. When I was home, he did crazy things to get high without my knowing.

I was mortified to admit that I may never be able to help him but I didn’t know what to do.

When he left this time, though, I was better prepared. I healed faster. But that meant that when I got a call from the hospital where he’d been sent to after overdoing, I forgave him quicker too.


	9. Dying

It was life or death. There he was, slipping away from me with a needle hanging from each arm and a pile of black stained syringes by his side. “I’ve been shooting up for days. I don’t remember when I last saw the sun.”

I had kissed his forehead in crippling defeat. My life came to a screeching halt every time he beckoned for me. I traipsed into every dank neighborhood and slum he called “home” whenever he so much as thought my name. Without ever wanting the title, he started calling me his “angel.”

Then he started calling me his “savior.”

The only thing I ever wanted him to call me was “mine.”

“I’m dying, Baz,” he whispered, nuzzling into my chest. I felt the heat of his breath through my haphazardly buttoned shirt. I wanted nothing more than for him to press his lips against my skin like he used to when we were young.

Those days were gone. I didn’t want them to be…


	10. Running

I couldn’t let him continue having that kind of power over me. There was only ever going to be two ways our love story ended. He died or we lived happily ever after.

The fact that I found a way around that was a strange surprise that I hadn’t even known that I needed.

When Simon’s life started to flicker away that night in the abandoned pub, I was desperate. I hated being his “savior” but didn’t know how to be anything else. It felt like my whole life since I’d met him hinged on everything about him. As we’d gone through the hell of his pain and suffering, though, the only thing I wanted for him was relief.

That’s why I bit him. That’s why I turned Simon into a vampire.

But that’s also why I flew him to America and abandoned him in the streets of New York City.

I couldn’t be Simon Snow’s savior. I couldn’t let him die either. Instead, I found a compromise. Now he’s going to live a long life working to heal himself, and I can finally sleep through the night knowing that I won’t have to wake to the phone call that he died running away from his problems.

Now the question is - how will I ever stop running from mine?


End file.
